


A Canopy Dotted With Stars

by Mareepysheepy



Category: South Park
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, Kissing, M/M, Minor Character Death, Natural relationship progression, Passage of time, underage sexual activity but nothing creepy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 04:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12879975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mareepysheepy/pseuds/Mareepysheepy
Summary: A hundred plastic stars bear witness to the shape of Craig’s life.





	A Canopy Dotted With Stars

It takes a lot of coaxing to convince Tweek to go camping with them. Craig accepted the task without much complaint but doesn’t enjoy trying to sell the benefits when he doesn’t really give a shit about camping himself. He tries to point out to his dad that Tweek _really_ isn’t an outdoorsy type several times, but his dad dismisses his every protest. He seems unable to believe that a young boy might not relish in the idea of spending a night on the cold, hard ground. Craig, on the other hand, is unable to believe how anyone _could_.

It isn’t until his mom takes him aside to plead with him that Craig really gives in. His family aren’t particularly touchy-feely. They rarely talk about feelings, and when they do it’s awkward and stunted and reeks of embarrassment. They are blunt to the point of being unintentionally hurtful to others sometimes, but it’s just the way that they are and Craig likes it. Which was why it is so weird that his mom of all people pulls him aside to talk. Not order. _Talk_.

She explains with so much unabashed sincerity that it makes Craig feel uncomfortable. She speaks with such uncharacteristic softness that Craig initially suspects that he was about to get some very bad news. Fear pulses through him in a short, sharp shock as words like ‘cancer’ and ‘grandma’ spring to mind.

Instead, his mom smiles sadly and reveals to him that his dad hadn’t had the closest of relationships to his own father. He only has few treasured memories of him. But sometimes, on special occasions they’d go camping together. At those times, she tells Craig, Thomas Tucker had never felt so close to his own dad. It was meaningful for them, and now his dad wants to share that with _him_. More than that: his dad wants to share that with Craig _and_ Tweek. It’s an unabashed act of love. An act of reaching out. To both of them.

Craig weakly argues that it really isn’t something Tweek will enjoy, but his mother only looks back at him with a look that gives little away. In the end though she doesn’t even need to threaten him. Instead, Craig feels alien feelings stir in his chest. Weird feelings that make his heart clench in a weird way. He thinks about his dad genuinely wanting to spend some time doing some ritualistic bonding thing with him and Tweek. Quietly, to his own surprise, he finds himself agreeing.

He doesn’t know if he regrets it yet. Tweek hasn’t calmed down and is perched on a fallen tree, eyes darting around in search of bears as his dad sets up the tents alone. Bears have been his primary concern ever since Craig suggested camping. A google search of the statistics had warmed him a little, but then they’d had to battle with Tweek’s concerns about malaria from mosquitoes. Luckily that could be combatted with bug spray (which Tweek has bought four cans of), but that isn’t much of a defence against a rogue bear.

Thomas Tucker seems blissfully oblivious, or at least is doing a good job of acting like he is. Craig has never seen him so cheerful, even despite being left to set up alone. He’s like a dog who’s been let off the lead or something. It’s odd to say the least, but some part of Craig actually sort of likes seeing him like it. Some very small part. The rest just sees it as annoying.

It’s takes so long to convince Tweek to leave his safe spot on the fallen tree that the food is ready. Craig all but drags him over to a spot by the campfire and pulls him down beside him. He gets a small glare from Tweek in response, but ignores it in favour of reaching for his food with his free hand. They haven’t even finished eating when Craig’s dad starts spinning tales of yesteryear, growing more talkative as he makes his way through his four pack of beer. He reveals that he used to go camping with Craig’s grandpa. He lists the animals that he’s seen and the breathtaking sights he’s borne witness to. He skims over his first hunt, correctly reading Tweek and Craig’s grossed-out expressions, and even quietly admits that he hadn’t enjoyed it. He tells them that he’d spent nights alongside the crackling flames with some of the other dads in town, which neither of the boys had known. Tweek’s interest piques when he finds out that’s included one Richard Tweak on several occasions.

“You wouldn’t believe how that man reacted to a sunrise once,” Craig’s dad says. At Tweek’s disbelieving look, he reconsiders and chuckles. “Okay, maybe you would.”

Before Craig is even aware of it, it’s grown dark. He glances around himself, surprised at how inky black the world looks beyond the soft glow cast by the fire.

His dad notices, and he smiles as he gets to his knees to pack away the food into the cool box.

“Why don’t you boys head over to that clearing? It’s only about thirty feet away,” he suggests, pointing with one stubby index finger.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Tweek asks dubiously, nibbling his worries into his thumbnail.

“I’ll know exactly where you are, and you’ll be together,” Craig’s dad laughs. “I wouldn’t bring you two here if it wasn’t safe, Tweek. Go.”

Craig sighs, getting to his feet and tugging Tweek up. “Is this a piss spot or something? Because I already pissed over there.”

“No, son,” his dad replies. “You should get a nice view of the sky though. It’s nothing like what you’d see in town where the light pollution dims it. Go ahead and take a look. Just make sure your back is to the fire and don’t look at your phones. You’ll see more then.”

Craig stares at his dad for a minute. His dad had never expressed even the faintest recognition that Craig likes the stars. Suddenly he finds himself wondering if his dad knows him better than he thinks, or whether it’s a coincidence.

After a moment, Craig moves, pulling Tweek along with their joined hands until they reach the clearing. It’s a fair size, the trees thinning out enough to open the sky up. Craig suddenly realises that it’s really not a coincidence at all and feels a little throb of gratitude towards his father.

It’s not an instant reveal. It’s more like the sky is slowly sharing more and more with them as their eyes adjust to the darkness. Sparkles dot the sky like distant fireworks, some almost winking into existence, others so faint they carry the deep knowledge that they’ve always, always been there just behind view. Wisps appear, fainter still, but filling the sky.

Tweek’s fingers twitch slightly under his own, but he doesn’t look. Suddenly the sky is filled with stars and Craig is certain that he’s never seen anything so breathtaking in his entire life. He’s never felt so unimaginably unimportant and simultaneously _connected_ to everything like this before. It’s raw and it’s beautiful and having Tweek silently by his side sharing this, holding his hand and keeping him grounded on this tiny, little speck of cosmic dust is almost overwhelming.

For a second he feels so moved that he could almost cry. But then Tweek squeezes his hand gently -intentionally this time- and it helps Craig take in a shuddery breath to calm himself.

Clearing his throat, Craig squeezes his hand back. “Want to sit down?” He asks, still a little breathless.

“Sure,” Tweek says softly. He even makes the first move, tugging him down to the ground without complaint about bugs or bear traps.

The magic that has fallen on the clearing isn’t broken by their talking. It splutters much like a flame in the breeze, but settles back over them like a blanket once they’ve settled, faces upturned.

After a while, Craig begins to point out stars and constellations. He traces the Summer Triangle for Tweek, helping his eyes to find Cygnus and from there they follow the band of the Milky Way. Any concerns Craig has about boring Tweek are quickly dispelled by Tweek’s interested questions. He asks the odd question about meteor strikes and wandering black holes, but otherwise he seems to sense the magic too, letting Craig take him on a journey of the cosmos.

Craig falls silent and in the lull, he feels a soft thump on his shoulder. Slowly he glances down and finds the dimly-lit form of Tweek’s head pressed there. The stillness and the silence both from and around him tell Craig without question that Tweek has fallen asleep.

It’s new. Tweek rarely fully lets his guard down, let alone falls asleep so readily. Craig feels a little thrill at the newness, interested. He isn’t sure why he does it, but it feels right when he loops an arm around Tweek’s shoulders and gently draws him nearer.

Craig is questioning a lot of things lately, many of them being his own feelings and actions. He knows with certainty that this moment is important. He recognises that it’s meaningful. He’s too young to really understand adult feelings but he’s starting to recognise that there’s a difference between liking someone and love. There’s a difference too between love and being _in_ love. He’s caught himself wondering about it sometimes. He doesn’t often dwell on it. It’s too complex and too big to be concerned about, and adulthood is reassuringly far away.

Here though, amidst the forest and the universe, drenched in unspoken magic Craig realises with a clarity beyond his years that he treasures this boy nestled against his side. He doesn’t know if it’s love yet, but it’s definitely something.

Craig loses himself in the moment. In the _Everything_. He doesn’t know how long it’s been when his dad finds them, laughing quietly about panicking that he’d lost them. Tweek doesn’t even stir when Thomas Tucker lifts him to his chest and carries him back to their tents.

Craig takes a moment to himself as he listens to those retreating footsteps. He soaks in everything that he can, committing it to memory, knowing that he doesn’t ever want to forget this moment.

—-  
“Thirteen,” Craig’s dad says for the sixth time that day. As if it wasn’t utterly inevitable with the flow of time being what it is.

“Uhuh,” Craig responds, more interested in checking his phone. Tweek said that he was on his way half an hour ago and he should be here by now. It sucks because by sheer fortune his thirteenth birthday has fallen on a Saturday but Tweek’s lame-ass parents hadn’t given him the time off from work. Apparently they are supportive of his and Tweek’s relationship, but not enough to spare their free child labour. The sole saving grace is that Tweek is at least going to be staying for a sleepover.

“Don’t start being grumpy just because you’ve grown into a teenager,” Craig’s mom laughs, clearly joking.

“You guys are more excited about this than I am,” Craig mutters.

“Of course we are!” His dad exclaims. “Our boy is growing up.”

“Urgh,” Craig grunts, sickened by all of this fluffy shit.

“Yeah, yeah,” his dad says, rolling his eyes fondly. “I really don’t get why you didn’t want a party though.”

Craig shrugs. “I got to sleep in, I’ve seen Clyde, Token, and Grandma, and I’ll see Jimmy tomorrow. Tweek is on his way over, we’re gonna order pizza… I’m perfectly happy with that. If I’d had a party I’d risk people I _don’t_ want to spend my birthday with turning up.”

“Oh, Craig,” his mom says with an exasperated roll of her eyes. “As long as you’re sure that’s what you want.”

“Sure. Because I’m the first person to do what other people want me to,” Craig says dryly.

“I suppose,” His mom agrees.

Any further conversation is cut off by the doorbell. Craig is on his feet an instant later, leaving his parents on the couch as he rushes to answer.

Tweek grins a huge, beaming smile the moment that Craig opens the door. He further surprises Craig by throwing his arms around him in a rough, tight hug.

“Happy birthday!” He shouts, squeezing him and releasing him.

Craig blinks, a little bit stunned when he steps back, but he can feel that his cheeks are tinged pink with pleasure.

“Hey. Come in, it’s cold,” Craig greets, stepping aside to grant entry.

Tweek hops inside, clutching his rucksack on one shoulder. He waves and chimes a hello to the rest of the Tucker family.

“Evening, Tweek,” Craig’s mom favours him with a wide smile. Craig is pretty sure that she likes him more than she does her own son. It used to be annoying, but Craig doesn’t mind so much these days. He sort of gets why she does.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Tweek gushes, looking genuinely upset over it. “Today was the first day of the new special and my dad really needed my help. Not that there was much of a rush…”

“Don’t worry about it, son,” Craig’s dad says with a smile. “None of us are starving to death.”

“Oh!” Tweek jolts on the spot like he’s been given a sharp electric shock. Everyone is used enough to it to not really respond, watching with interest instead as Tweek drops to one knee and begins delving into his rucksack.

He comes back up a moment later with a card and two, small gifts, one box-like and the other flat as a sheet of paper. Craig smiles a little smile of gratitude as he accepts them, sitting back on the sofa with them in his lap.

Tweek fidgets on the spot, blushing a little. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” Craig replies. His family are as intrigued as he is, drawing closer to peer at the gifts as if they’re their own.

The card comes first. Craig slips his thumb beneath the opening and slides it open, pulling out the card inside. It’s surprisingly cute: two guinea pigs in hats with the words “HAPPY BIRTHDAY BOYFRIEND” on it. Last year Tweek had got him an awful monstrosity with a blue bear on it, and the year before that he’d simply given him one with “11” on it. He’s definitely improving in his card choices, and Craig tells him as much.

His mom coos over how cute the card is as she gets to her feet to put it with the rest on the sideboard. She somehow guesses that Craig wants it to sit front and centre, even though he wouldn’t voice such a thing aloud.

Satisfied, Craig returns his attention to his gifts. He goes for the box first, tearing the wrapping paper off and tossing it onto the coffee table. He smiles when he sees that it’s a phone case. He opens the box and reaches in to pull the silicon case out.

“Nice,” Craig smiles when he turns it over to see that it’s decorated with a red S in a white box, and a black WT in a circle. It’s subtle and fun and such a throwback that Craig finds himself immensely pleased with it.

“You always seem to drop your phone,” Tweek says.

“Yes he does,” Craig’s dad agrees. “And we’re not made of money, _are we_ , Craig?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Craig rolls his eyes. “Thanks, Tweek. I hadn’t thought of Super Craig and Wonder Tweek in a while.”

Tweek laughs. “I still have your sweater. I forget why I have it sometimes and then I remember.”

“We shoulda made our own franchise plan,” Craig smiles back at him, reaching for his second gift, intrigued by its flatness to say the least. He opens it more carefully and slides whatever it is out of the wrapping with a soft _whsss_.

A sheet of glow in the dark stars drop into his palm.

“I know you love stars and stuff,” Tweek jumps in. He’s nervous, flushed and fidgeting, clearly worrying about this gift. “And I thought about when we went camping a few months ago and we looked at the sky and you showed me all of those constellations. So I sort of thought that maybe we could put the constellations on your ceiling so you could look up at them whenever.”

Craig feels his heart somersault inside his chest. He stares at Tweek for a long moment, feeling his cheeks burn with uncharacteristic redness. Tweek twitches twice in response, his nervous expression deepening into worry.

“I love it,” Craig says, surprising himself with how soft his voice comes out. “I really love it. Thank you, Tweek.” He means it too. Of all the gifts he’s received today -bigger gifts, more expensive gifts- this is his favourite. This little pack of stars clutched between his fingers and thumbs. It’s probably the least expensive of all his gifts, but it’s so meaningful, so _romantic_ that he’s taken aback, breathless.

He looks over at his mom. She looks back at him, fighting an inner war with herself. Craig knows that she hates mess; she barely tolerates posters being put up. But she also loves her son, and she can see that this means something more to him than she can understand.

“Fine,” she sighs. “You can go and put them up. I’ll order the pizza to come for seven thirty.”

Craig is on his feet in a heartbeat. He jerks his head towards the stairs. “Let’s go, Tweek.”

Tweek nods, visibility melting from relief. “Okay, Craig.”

They mount the stairs two at a time with Craig in the lead, and head to Craig’s bedroom. Craig takes a seat on the floor next to his bed, resting his back against it as he spills the rest of the sheets onto the carpet.

“What did you want to do?” Tweek asks, perching next to him.

“I want to recreate the sky,” Craig explains. “But I think I’d need several million more stars and it’d be a pain in the ass. So for simplicity’s sake, I wanna put up my favourite constellations and just sort of dot stars around.”

Tweek nods, following. “How can I help?”

Craig is silent for moment, counting on his fingers and doing some quick calculations. Then he reaches for two of the sheets and slides them to one side. “I need at least these. You can take the others and start sticking them randomly.”

Tweek nods, collecting his sheets and getting to his feet. Together they climb onto Craig’s bed and laugh when they realise that Craig is barely tall enough, and Tweek is just short. Luckily, Craig’s dad is on hand to bring them a step ladder and they re-commence their operation.

It takes longer than either had been anticipating as more and more stars seem to appear from the packaging. Craig’s mom comes up twice: once to bring drinks, and a second time to call them for dinner. They head downstairs to eat, hurriedly scoffing pizza and talking with the Tuckers, but it’s clear their minds are left behind in Craig’s room with a hundred sticky stars.

When they return, they find that Craig’s dad has taken the opportunity to set up the spare mattress next to Craig’s bed, adorning it with fresh bedding ready for Tweek. They laugh when they see it, knowing through silent agreement that they won’t be sleeping until this is done.

It’s nearly nine by the time they’re finished. Tweek hands Craig the very last star and Craig wonders if they should make it a little more ceremonial. He dismisses the thought a moment later when his hand, acting independently from his brain, lifts and sticks the star in place.

“I can’t believe we’re done!” Tweek laughs. “Oh man, that took way more effort than I thought it would.”

“Yeah well, it wouldn’t be the same effect with less of them,” Craig replies. “Lie down. I’m gonna hit the lights.”

Tweek nods and climbs onto Craig’s bed as Craig moves over towards the light switch. He shuts the door with a soft click and flicks the switch. The room plummets into darkness for a moment before Craig’s eyes adjust. He makes his way back to his bed, guided by the dim streetlights outside window and climbs up to lie beside Tweek.

“Whoa,” Tweek breathes out as Craig settles.

Craig is inclined to agree once his head hits the pillow, lying on his back next to Tweek, staring up at the ceiling.

It’s not quite like that night out in the woods. The stars on Craig’s ceiling don’t have the richness offered by the intricate, natural canvas the sky offers, and they glow with a steady, soft green rather than the pulsing white light of real stars. But in spite of this, maybe _because_ of this, the magic that Craig felt on that night settles back over him like whispy gossamer. The feeling grows stronger when his head tilts to the side without a conscious thought and he finds himself gazing upon Tweek.

He’s bathed in the faint, soft, green glow cast by plastic stars, eyes fixed upwards and mouth curved into a grin. Craig has never thought of Tweek as beautiful before. At thirteen he’s entertained wandering thoughts about what he finds attractive, but never _beautiful_. Here, in this moment though, Craig thinks he understands. He thinks that this is what beautiful looks like.

Sensing the gaze on him, Tweek’s eyes move to meet Craig’s, his head tilting slightly to accommodate the motion. In the darkness his eyes look almost black, highlighted by twinkles the shape of stars. It makes Craig’s mouth go dry. He’s captivated by this moment, by the hush of breathlessness and the stars reflected in Tweek’s wide, calm eyes.

He knows instinctively that they’re about to kiss. There’s something heavy and magnetic in the air. It’s all Craig can think of, like the sum total of his being was made to kiss Tweek and he needs it more than he’s ever needed anything in his life. He can’t even berate himself for being sappy. It’s going to happen and he doesn’t want to stop it.

When their lips meet halfway, Craig already knows that it’s not like their previous kisses. Their lips press together and slant, warm and slightly wet. Neither one pulls away and there’s no pretence that this is the same shy, chaste smudge of lips they’ve had before. They’re still children, but this feels adult. It feels scary. It feels _exhilarating_.

Craig parts his lips a fraction and Tweek responds in kind. There’s enough room to peek his tongue hesitantly into the gap they’ve made together. He almost startles when he finds Tweek’s tongue doing the same and stops suddenly to utter a small laugh.

“What?” Tweek asks, breathless. There’s the faintest alarm marring his features.

Craig shakes his head in answer, not entirely sure but feeling seized by a sickening happiness that he would never dare speak aloud. He reaches out to grip Tweek’s shoulder and leans back in, reconnecting their lips.

Both of them open their mouths to it at first contact, tongues coming out to meet one another. Together they learn how to move, cautious and curious until it starts feeling more natural and requires less conscious thought. Distantly Craig notes that Tweek isn’t shaking, but the thought is swiftly dominated by fond amusement over the fact that he tastes like pizza.

After several minutes, Craig draws back. He has no idea when his eyes closed, or when one of his hands ended up on Tweek’s waist. His lips tingle pleasantly and his chin is slightly wet from where Tweek’s lips slipped at some point.

When Tweek meets his gaze again something feels different. He doesn’t know how, but things have changed. They’re too young to dwell on it for long, or try to decipher the deeper meaning, but Craig feels like he’s had a taste of things to come. Beneath the starry scene that both he and Tweek created together, Craig feels excited about turning thirteen for the first time.

—

“You’re over-reacting, Tweek,” Craig says with a little more heat than usual. He’s losing his patience. A traitorous thought bubbles up that maybe he feels guilty, but he quashes it angrily.

“I’m _over-reacting_? You said she had a nice pair of tits and a great ass! _In front of me and our friends_ ,” Tweek yells, getting progressively louder.

“So what?”

“So what? So _what_? I’m your _boyfriend_!” Tweek snaps.

“Yeah, don’t I know it,” Craig bites back, sarcastic.

“Excuse me?” Tweek snarls. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on,” Craig sighs, wiping a hand over his face. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I really don’t,” Tweek says.

“Dude, we got labelled as gay at the age of ten. I’m just saying that at the age of fourteen do we _really_ want to sign the rest of our lives off?”

“Now I’m ‘signing your life off’?” Tweek snaps.

“Dude, that’s not what I’m saying! Listen to me for once! I’m just saying that most guys our age wouldn’t have been in a gay relationship for four years. They’d be experimenting and dating around.”

Tweek is quiet for a moment. “Is that what you want?”

“I’m not saying that. I’m just saying that we shouldn’t write it off.”

“ _Shouldn’t write it off,_ ” Tweek scoffs. “And I suppose you humping me like a fucking dog the other day has nothing to do with this,” He sneers.

Craig feels his cheeks heat up in simultaneous bouts of embarrassment and anger. He remembers the thrill of seeing Tweek pressed down beneath him, panting as his hips had lifted to roughly collide with his own. He remembers how terrifying and fucking good it had felt to feel the bulge of his dick pressed to his own. He feels his body responding to the mere memory alone.

“Fuck you,” He says instead. “It has nothing to do with that. I’m just saying that there’s nothing wrong with questioning things sometimes.”

“Sure,” Tweek says. His voice is tight, simmering with fury and something else. Craig thinks that it’s hurt. He doesn’t want to think about that. “It just so happens that you got off with a guy and now suddenly you’re all about the tits. Okay.”

“Whatever, man. You’re seriously telling me that you’ve not thought about it?” Craig frowns.

“No, Craig. I haven’t. Maybe because I thought we were fucking happy!” He bites back.

“Oh yeah. We’re fucking delirious. I can’t even have a sensible conversation with you without you losing your shit,” Craig says. Part of him is screaming at himself to stop antagonising Tweek, honestly having no idea why he’s doing this. Another, louder part is egging him on, urging him on, baiting him like a schoolyard bully.

“Fuck _you_!” Tweek shrieks. “ _Sensible_? You’re acting like some fucking dude bro asshole suddenly and I’m the one who’s not being sensible?”

“I’m not a dude bro for questioning things!” Craig spits.

“Do you even know how fake you sound going on about _tits_? You’ve been telling everyone for years you’re gay, and _suddenly_ you’re interested in _tits_?”

“Well maybe I don’t want to be gay anymore! Maybe I’ve just been doing what everyone expects of me!”

Tweek is silent for a long time. Craig swallows and checks his phone to see if he’s hung up. He hasn’t, a picture of his smiling face still decorates his screen and it makes Craig’s heart squeeze uncomfortably. “Craig… did someone _say_ something?” He says eventually. It sounds like a plea. He’s trying to make sense of this.

“No,” Craig frowns. No one has and if they do, Craig doesn’t care. “No one’s said anything, okay? I just don’t know if it’s okay to be put together before we really made our minds up. I mean, are we gay because we’re gay, or are we gay because we were told we were?”

“Why does it matter so much to you?” Tweek asks, sounding more desperate than before. “Just because it wasn’t conventional doesn’t mean that it hasn’t been _real_. Unless you wanna tell me now that everything has been one big joke to you?”

“Fuck you, dude!” Craig replies. “It’s not been not real! But you’ve got to question things at _some_ point! When I was ten I barely even knew what gay _was_. Things are different now. We’re growing up!”

“Okay, _dude_. You want go and swim in pussy, be my guest!” Tweek sounds angry again. Angry and upset.

“I’m not saying that that’s what I want, Tweek! I’m just saying...” Craig doesn’t really know _what_ he’s saying. He wants space, but he doesn’t. He wants to explore if he could like girls, but not without Tweek. He wants to not enjoy the feeling of another boy’s dick pressed against his own as much as he does, because that cements everything. It confirms what he already suspects: what his mother suspected back when he was nine and the mayor called him out on when he was ten. It confirms what he was supposed to discover on his own, not be dictated to him. And Craig hates being dictated to.

“No, I mean it. You don’t want your faggy boyfriend hanging around chasing all the chicks off do you?” Tweek carries on, voice dripping with venom.

“Stop being so damned emotional,” Craig barks, feeling very emotional himself. “No one is calling you faggy.”

“I’ll make it easy for you: we’re done. There you go, you’re free. Go fuck yourself.”

The phone clicks and Craig finds himself staring at the screen of his own phone, seeing the last traces of his call to Tweek fade away. Four years of growing together torn down in six minutes and forty-three seconds.

His phone clatters as he hurls it across his room, snarling. The little _fucker_. If he didn’t get so God _damn_ emotional over stupid shit then Craig wouldn’t say stupid things to make everything worse!

Furiously, Craig averts his gaze to the ceiling, staring spitefully at the stars scattered there. They’re testament to Tweek’s presence in his life. Without thinking, he springs to his feet, hands poised to rip and tear at the shitty, little things.

He hates Tweek in that moment. _Hates_ him. Hates how he’s embedded himself into Craig’s life as this crucial, indispensable piece.

The feeling is gone almost as quickly as it hits him, the irrational fit of rage draining away and leaving him cold and empty in its wake. His hands drop to his sides, shock setting in. He can barely breathe; it’s like the air has been punched out of him.

That’s it. He’s got what he wanted, hasn’t he? The freedom to force himself to be something he’s not for the sake of saying he has. Now he can pursue all of the girls that he’s not even remotely attracted to. And he can watch as any remotely sensible gay or bisexual guy at school sweeps in to take Tweek for himself because they’d be crazy not to. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Tweek granted him freedom alright: the freedom to fuck up more than he’s ever fucked up in his entire life.

The stupid stars on his ceiling watch over him with an accusatory presence. Craig can’t handle it, draping an arm over his eyes to block them out.

—  
“I dunno, man. He looked pissed to me!”

Craig can’t help laughing, picturing how annoyed this Louis guy must have looked after Tweek blew him out of the water. “Not your problem, honey,” he says after his laugh has tapered off into a chuckle. “He shouldn’t have come in with his act-or shit. He’s fifteen, not some Broadway star.”

“Urgh. I think he thought he was _West End_ with that shitty attempt at an English accent,” Tweek complains. “Oh my, gov’nor, I learnt my accent from Dick Van Dyke, I did,” he mocks, doing an intentionally bad accent.

Craig chuckles, eyes trained on the stars scattered across the ceiling. He can’t remember when it grew so dark. It had been a warm, dusky light when Tweek had phoned to tell him how the auditions for the school play had gone. Craig hasn’t even noticed the time ticking by, but then again, he rarely does when he’s talking to Tweek.

“I’m sorry I missed it,” Craig says, not for the first time that call.

“It’s okay,” Tweek replies. Craig can tell that he’s smiling. Pictures it. Finds himself smiling goofily in response, glad that no one can see him. “How did football go?”

“Okay,” Craig replies, yawning. “Not worth missing your audition for though. I wish you’d recorded it.”

“Craig, you seriously do not love me enough to want to watch a recording of me auditioning for a shitty school play,” Tweek laughs in response.

Craig honestly doesn’t get why Tweek is so disparaging about his own acting. As far as Craig is concerned, he has a gift. He might be the doting boyfriend, but even he knows genuinely good acting from the plain hammy. Tweek seems to channel something, God only knows how else Craig can describe it. He doesn’t stutter, or tremble, or tug his hair. Instead he seems to come to life on the stage, assuming roles and shrugging the life of others on as if they were worn, old coats. Craig has wondered before whether Tweek is more comfortable in the skin of others than he is in his own.

“I do,” Craig insists, scratching idly at his chest. “I like seeing you kick other people’s asses.”

“I could totally beat down this Louis guy,” Tweek laughs in response. “I bet he’s never even hit anyone.”

“Definitely record that,” Craig agrees. It’s been a couple of years since he last saw Tweek throw a punch, but he has to admit that the thought of it gets his blood pumping. “Anyway,” Craig says, drawing himself away from that line of thought, lest he end up getting horny. “Tell me more about the role.”

“Oh,” Tweek says. “I’m one of the leads, some Mormon missionary or something. It looks like it’s pretty funny. I’ll have to sing though.”

“Good. I keep telling you that you’re a nice singer,” Craig replies.

“I’m _okay_ ,” Tweek relents. “But I’m not about to win America’s got Talent or anything.”

“You don’t need it, babe. You’ll get scouted and become a world-renown actor. And then you can keep me in luxury as your trophy boyfriend. I’ll even let you do cocaine and have affairs if you’re discreet.”

“Fuck off. You’d beat the shit out of me and anyone I was sleeping with,” Tweek laughs.

“You’re supposed to say that you’d never have an affair and that I am more than enough for you,” Craig replies.

“Am I?” Tweek hums.

“Fuck you,” Craig says. It carries no heat. Instead he’s smiling to himself, amused eyes trained on the stars over his bed. “I don’t want to live in Hollywood though.”

“Nah,” Tweek agrees. “Too hot. Too fake.”

“Not New York either. Too noisy.”

“Where then? South Park?”

Craig groans at that. “Fuck no. I want out of this psychotic hick town. Somewhere where Mecha Streisand isn’t a thing.”

Tweek laughs at that. “I can get behind that.”

Craig smiles to himself at the sound of his chiming laughter. “You sound good, babe. Relaxed.”

Tweek sighs on the other end. “Yeah. I was stressed earlier. You could probably tell from my messages, huh?” Craig hums in agreement. “I almost didn’t do it, but I thought about what we talked about and thought _fuck it._ I honestly didn’t expect to get a lead part. I kept thinking I’d forget the lines.”

“And did you?” Craig asks.

“No,” Tweek admits. “Once I got started it all kind of flowed.” He’s silent for a moment before adding: “I can’t see me going into a career in this, if I’m honest. I kind of enjoy it and it’s something that seems to come naturally to me and it’s great for extra credit but…”

“It’s just not your destiny?” Craig suggests.

“Nope. Not my destiny. You’ll have to postpone your dreams.”

“Damn,” Craig says, deadpan. “Piss on my parade why don’t you?”

It’s Tweek’s turn to yawn. “Sorry,” He says insincerely. “You’ll have to get off your ass and work. I want to be the one who gets to stay at home. I’ll pay you in cupcakes.”

“Just cupcakes?” Craig says. His voice comes out as flat as ever but he and Tweek both know that he’s being flirtatious. He kicks himself as soon as he says it, hoping that his stupid fifteen year-old boy hormones don’t make him come across as creepy.

To Tweek’s credit, he’s only silent for a beat. He utters a surprised, little ‘oh Jesus’, but forges on a moment later. “Fine. I’ll learn how to make croissants,” he jokes. “But I’m sure I can pay in uh, _other_ ways too.”

Despite the stressy, little tic, Craig is reminded once again that Tweek is just as much as a hormone-driven fifteen year-old boy he is. The thought makes him go hot, like a molten wave has oozed through him from head to toe.

He clears his throat.

“So when do rehearsals start?” Craig says, changing the subject.

“Huh? Oh, in two weeks,” Tweek answers. “I’m gonna be busy after school for a while.”

“Your parents can suck it. They’ve had more than enough child slave labour from you,” Craig snorts when he detects the apologetic note in Tweek’s voice.

“Yeah, they can. But I meant more for you. Aren’t you going to be pining for me?”

Craig can hear the smile in Tweek’s voice and he can’t help smiling in return, idly playing with the string on his hat. “Why would I be pining for you? I see enough of you as it is.”

“You asshole.”

Craig laughs at that. “Seriously though, if it’s okay I’d like to hang out and watch sometimes.”

“Craig, you _hate_ plays,” Tweek says, fond. “I really don’t mind. We can still hang out and stuff, so don’t worry about it.”

“I hate plays, but I don’t mind watching you,” Craig corrects him. “I mean I won’t turn up if you don’t want me there, but I’m happy coming along otherwise.”

“Really?” Tweek replies, sounding a little awed. He coughs, sounding a little embarrassed with himself, although Craig can only guess that. “Only if you’re sure then.”

“I don’t do anything I’m not sure about,” Craig reminds him. “Too much of an effort.”

Tweek hums, answering him with a yawn. It triggers a chain reaction in Craig and he lets out a jaw-cracking yawn in response.

“You sound tired,” Tweek says. He’s stating the obvious, which is a trait that Craig hates in anyone but Tweek. From Tweek though, it’s okay because it makes him feel cared about.

“Hmm,” Craig responds noncommittally. “Advanced physics is kicking my ass. I feel like my skull’s been drilled into and drained.”

“I wish I was as smart as you,” Tweek says, sounding proud.

“Nah,” Craig shrugs lazily, even though Tweek can’t see it. “My brain is just really lame and works in stupid ways. I wish that I was more creative. That shit is beyond comprehension.”

“You can be- well… no. No you really can’t,” Tweek concedes.

“Thank you for being honest with me,” Craig drones. It warms his heart when Tweek laughs in response. Craig does wish that he could be creative, but he’s got Tweek for all that. They’re a team and that’s how teams work. Each constituent part brings something special to the equation and makes a whole. If it means that Craig will have to have Tweek by his side forever to make up for his own shortcomings well, that’s fine with him.

Tweek is talking again, Craig thinks distantly. He doesn’t really register the words. He focuses instead on the shape of them, imagining them to be waves of the ocean as Tweek’s voice rises and falls through his chatter. He lets that voice fill his ears and then lets it in deeper still, penetrating the usual barriers until it fills him.

He feels warm and calm. He hums when he recognises a lull and trains his eyes on the stars, watching dozily as their glow blurs and spreads as his eyes grow unfocused. Tweek’s voice still floats around him, sinking into him. From very far away Craig realises without any shock or surprise that this is what falling asleep to the sound of the boy you’re in love with feels like.

He thinks he’ll remember that when he wakes up. He hopes he does because the thought makes him feel exquisitely happy.

—-

Too hot. Everything is too hot.

He pushes the blanket down, welcoming cool air on his damp skin. Tweek makes a soft noise of complaint, murmuring as he reaches for the sheet.

“Sorry,” Craig says. His voice comes out strange and gruff.

“S’okay,” Tweek whispers back, barely audible.

Craig swallows and nods, unable to do much more than that. Even basic tasks are proving maddeningly difficult, thoughts feeling slippery like eels slithering through his fingers.

“You can move a bit more,” Tweek says after an eon passes. His words come out wobbly and soft. Barely there, like the tiniest hint of a breeze on a scorching hot day.

“Okay,” Craig replies. It tapers into a grunt as he shifts, pressing his hips forward as the blunt head of his dick digs deeper inside Tweek.

Tweek draws in a sharp breath like a hiss. His lips are parted, teeth grit as he drags in air, brow furrowed. Craig stares at the creases on his brow, lowering his concerned gaze to meet Tweek’s eyes.

“I’m okay,” Tweek breathes. He twitches and it’s all Craig can do to hold still because it makes him throb around his cock. “Doesn’t hurt just… just _weird_.”

Craig’s read about that before. He’s made sure to do his research. Had to make sure their first time was perfect. He knows that it can feel uncomfortable and weird and that Tweek may not even enjoy it. He might choose not to do it again. Selfishly he hopes that Tweek doesn't hate it because Craig feels like he’s going to implode just from working the first inch and a half in. It’s nothing like a fist or a mouth. It’s snug and meltingly hot and he feels so connected to Tweek that he swears he can feel his racing heartbeat from inside him.

 _Slow. Slow_. He repeats in a mantra. _Slow. Slow_. He pauses, reaching for the lube, adding more to himself over the condom. He eases free a fraction. Adds more.

“Nghh,” Tweek grunts. It’s softer than his usual tic. “Craig?”

“Yeah?” Craig whispers back, trying to chase the strain out of his voice.

“Could- can you kiss me? Please?” Tweek asks.

Within an instant, Craig is lying back atop him, cupping his cheek tenderly with his index and middle finger. He brushes his lips over Tweek’s, gentle where the firm rod of his dick can’t be. Tweek opens his mouth to it, seeking Craig’s tongue out with his own. Craig answers him with languid motions, stroking and caressing and worshiping. It makes Tweek relax imperceptibly and Craig takes the chance to resume his achingly slow press into him.

It takes nearly twenty minutes and several top-ups of lube for Craig’s pubic bone to finally meet the pillowy curve of Tweek’s asscheeks. He lets out a breath once he does, a great gushing sigh of relief. He’s damp with sweat and trembling from exertion.

“How’re you holding up?” He asks, panting quietly.

Tweek nods, drawing his gaze from the ceiling to meet Craig’s eyes. “Okay,” He says, cheeks stained dark in the dim light. “I’m okay. You feel enormous though,” he complains, sending Craig a weak smile.

“I bet,” Craig replies sympathetically. “I’m sorry it’s uncomfortable.”

Tweek shakes his head. “It’s not like I didn’t expect it.” He pauses to take a few, deep breaths. He shifts slightly and winces when it makes Craig move inside him a fraction. “How’s… I mean. Is it okay for you?”

Craig bows his head at the movement and has to think unsexy thoughts with serious haste to prevent himself from finishing from that alone. “Uhuh,” He grunts, strained. “Definitely okay. More. Better than okay I mean.”

“Good,” Tweek breathes. He sounds so relieved that Craig feels his heart ache. Jesus Christ, he loves this boy so much.

It’s too embarrassing to gush aloud, so Craig leans back in, kissing Tweek slow and deep. Tweek moans in response and lifts his hands, sliding them over Craig’s back. One hand travels up to Craig’s neck and into his hair, fingers weaving between strands and gripping lightly. The other travels over his shoulder blade to ghost over his spine. It makes Craig shiver, his cock jumping at the featherlight touch.

“Ah-” Tweek gasps softly.

“Sorry,” Craig replies, feeling dizzy.

Tweek responds by tightening his grip on Craig’s hair, using it to pull Craig’s face close to his own. He lets his tongue slip free of his mouth, flicking it against Craig’s lips. “It’s okay,” He says with a heavy-eyed expression. “You can move, Craig. Just- just go slow.”

Craig nods dumbly. He cants his hips, grinding inside him rather than thrusting. Tweek gasps when he repeats the motion, his entire body spasming in response. The twitch makes Craig groan helplessly, his dick swelling in response to the shudder that runs through him. There’s too much co-ordination required to kiss so instead he drops his head, pressing his temple to Tweek’s cheekbone, panting into his ear. He’s barely even moving but it feels like he’s run a marathon. His heart is jackhammering inside his chest and his lungs can’t suck in enough air.

Instinct doesn’t take long to kick in. His hips move of their own volition, rolling like gentle waves in small, shallow thrusts. A selfish, brutish part of himself wants to cut him free from restraint and fuck with wild abandon, but he has enough sense of mind to respect Tweek’s wishes ( _slow. Slow_.) This has to be special for Tweek. He needs to show his gratitude for the mind-blowing gift of trust that’s been bestowed on him. Tweek’s allowed him into his own body. Craig is damned fucking well going to treasure that.

Tweek seems to sense the tenderness behind his actions. He doesn’t bait Craig, or mock him for being a sap. Instead he grips him tighter with his thighs, the heel of one foot pressing into Craig’s spine. He makes a guttural sound from deep within his chest and it’s enough to signal the beginning of the end.

It’s too soon for Tweek to be screaming in ecstasy. The experience is too new and too weird. But the knowledge that Tweek felt  _something_ , had a taste of what could be excites Craig so much that he can’t stop the rush that follows. It’s too late to stop it. The shock of the sound from Tweek triggers his orgasm and before he can reel it back in, Craig’s cock is swelling and spluttering inside him.

Tweek grunts quietly in response, holding him tightly as Craig’s hips twitch in small jerks, riding his orgasm out. Craig sighs when he’s finished, bone-weary and utterly content. Dully, he finds himself surprised at the fact that it is _Tweek_ who is soothing _him_ with soft strokes to his skin as he calms down.

“Can you pull out?” Tweek asks in a soft voice once Craig has descended back to Earth, discomfort creeping back in.

“Yeah, sorry,” Craig rasps. He sits up, holding Tweek by the hip as he carefully eases free. He catches sight of Tweek’s grimace and tries not to think of how weird it must feel. Not sure how else to respond, Craig presses a soft kiss to his mouth and is pleased when Tweek needily replies by wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling him into a deeper kiss for a few, long minutes until Tweek shivers from the cold.

Craig pulls back from the kiss and silently sets to work, focusing on pulling the condom off and tying it before reaching for tissues to try to clean Tweek up.

“Craig,” Tweek murmurs. Craig pauses, looking back at his face. “I’m okay,” He says, sending Craig a small smile. “Come and hold me.”

“That’s gay,” Craig jokes lightly, moving back to lie beside Tweek, reaching out and drawing him into his arms. He kicks the blanket back up with his foot as the chill returns to the night air.

“Hmm,” Tweek replies, nuzzling Craig’s throat lazily. “I think the whole sex thing is definitely more gay than this.”

“You’re probably right,” Craig answers, his voice finally starting to sound normal again.

“That wasn’t so bad. By the end, it started to feel kind of good,” Tweek says.

“Good,” Craig replies. “Next time I’ll try to do more. Or you can try doing me. If you want there to be a next time, I mean.”

Tweek angles his head to kiss his chin. “I want there to be a next time,” he says, soft.

Craig nods. “Good. That’s… Yeah. Good.”

They fall into a comfortable silence. The air is heavy with feelings and the room smells of sex. Craig rolls over, keeping Tweek pressed to his chest. He finds his eyes drawn to the ceiling and realises for the first time that Tweek had been staring up at the stars.

“Hey, Tweek?” He says, half expecting Tweek to be dozing.

“Yeah?” He responds.

Craig doesn’t look away from the stars as he says: “I love you.”

Tweek nuzzles his collar. “You sap. I love you too.”

—

Tweek sighs, his hot breath blowing over Craig’s collar. Craig silently draws him closer, rolling his head to kiss his brow.

Neither of them look around the almost empty room. Craig’s parents have loaded the car up and are waiting for Craig downstairs. They’ve agreed to give Craig some space, silently understanding his need to spend these last few moments with Tweek.

His mind can’t settle on what to say. They’ve spent the better part of the last three months discussing this in detail. They’ve got FaceTime and texts. Craig will be home every holiday, and Tweek will visit most weekends. Rationally, this isn’t a big deal. He’s only going to Boulder. He made the decision when New Mexico and Utah had proved to be unworkable for weekend visits, so this isn’t a big deal. Everything is going to be fine.

He draws Tweek closer to himself and shivers. For one of the few times in his life, rationality is failing him. Boulder feels like it’s a million miles away because it’s not South Park and Tweek won’t be a ten minute stroll from his front door. He won’t be there during break times, sharing his yoghurt, or sneaking the odd puff on a joint behind the bleachers. He won’t come into Craig’s room at early hours of the morning and flop beside him when he’s tired of his own thoughts.

Their world is expanding and time marches on with little care for the mote of dust that is human existence. Across the country, millions of young people walking the fine line between childhood and adulthood are saying goodbye to their childhood loves. Some will forget them in a week, their relationship abandoned from that first, drunk fuck with an alluring stranger. Some will try their best, watching with passionless acceptance as the years apart erode away at their relationship until it fizzles and dies after dragging on for far too long. Some, a smaller number, will make it work. They’ll create a new life and experience new experiences. Maybe they’ll even be tempted from time to time. But for those few, rare people today won’t be the ringing death toll for their relationship. For those people, they’ll find a way to make sure that the person by their side today is still by their side in four years’ time.

Craig is a realist, but he’s also confident that he is that rare person. Because there is no one in the world quite like Tweek.

He soothes his fingers through Tweek’s hair. It needs a cut, but Craig enjoys twirling the strands between his fingers. He’s going to miss finding stray blond hairs in between the pages of his books, or attached to his clothes. He adds a mental note to get Tweek in his new bed as soon as possible. If they fuck around, great, but Craig is more concerned with getting his hair on his pillow and his scent on his sheets. He needs that, he realises. He needs the small reminders that Tweek isn’t very far away.

Sensing his thoughts, Tweek tips his head up and smudges a kiss to his lips. Craig answers, lazy and close-lipped, simply savouring the sensation.

“How’re you feeling?” Craig asks when they pull apart. His voice sounds loud in his empty room. Too loud.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Tweek jokes weakly. They both know that Tweek will be the one who struggles more. Whatever anxiety and sense of loss Craig is feeling is probably amplified ten-fold for Tweek. And yet throughout it all, Tweek has been nothing but supportive. He’s never once asked for Craig to stay close to him. He’s not been selfish. He’s done his best to be supportive, even being the one to research where the best engineering courses are. He’d shaken with dread when he’d told Craig about schools on the other side of the country, but he’d still done it and Craig had loved him for it, even if he had no intention of even leaving the state.

Boulder isn’t that far away. If either of them need it, they can be at each other’s sides at the drop of a hat. It’s a change, and it’s going to be harder, but they can absolutely make it work because they both need it to.

Craig kisses Tweek again, scratching his blunt fingernails lightly against Tweek’s scalp. It makes him shiver slightly and for a moment, Craig thinks that he’s growing aroused until he catches the slight hitch of breath. Pulling back, he cups Tweek’s cheek instead and pulls him into a tight hug.

“I’m okay,” Tweek says against Craig’s neck in a wobbly, muffled voice. “I’m not gonna cry like some pussy.”

Craig smiles to himself, but his eyes train upon the stars scattered across his ceiling, simple plastic shapes in the late afternoon light. He realises that this is the last time he’ll lie here with Tweek under this man-made canopy of stars. The thought hits him with such a strong sense of finality that his eyes suddenly burn. Sure they’ll have holidays and visits but somehow Craig knows that there’s something very final about being here in this moment.

“You might not be the one who ends up crying, honey,” Craig says. He tries to make it come out light-hearted, but the rawness in his voice undermines him.

Tweek doesn’t lift his head to study him. Instead he grips on tighter to Craig. Grips on like his life depends on it. Craig is grateful. He feels like if they locked eyes, he really would cry and that would just he lame.

They lie like that for some time, Craig stares up at the stars on his ceiling. He feels a warm wetness sink into the neck of his shirt, but he doesn’t comment on it, stroking Tweek’s back silently instead.

A knock at the door breaks their little bubble apart. Craig’s mom stands in the open doorway, an understanding, sympathetic look on her face.

“Craig, sweetie. It really is time to go,” she says.

Craig sighs. He’d wanted to be strong enough to leave the room without being fetched. He realises now that it could never have happened.

Tweek stopped crying some time ago, but still takes a moment when he’s hidden in Craig’s chest to hurriedly wipe his eyes. Then he sits up on his knees.

“Come on, lazy ass,” he says, climbing to his feet and offering his hand.

Craig takes one last, long look at the stars on his ceiling before rolling to his feet and slipping his fingers in between Tweek’s.

He allows himself to be led from the room and it isn’t until he’s staring at the blank ceiling of his new room later that night that he allows himself to shed a few self-indulgent tears.

—

There’s a crash from downstairs. Craig winces but he doesn’t move from his spot on the bed.

He’s trying not to think too much, staring at a ceiling where a long time ago stars had once been dotted, placed by a little boy and his boyfriend. It was a lifetime ago, but Craig still feels something stir in his heavy chest.

“Hey.” A voice interrupts his thoughts. He glances over at the pretty, young woman in the doorway. She’s watching him with a gentle concern, hovering uncertainly at the threshold.

“Hey,” Craig responds. He offers her a weak smile. He doesn’t like looking weak around her; he never has. Right now though, he simply can’t help himself. He’s been feeling so much for the last few weeks, _months_ even and he cannot seem to shut it off. Being back here, back in this house and on this bed has made things feel sharper.

She hesitates a moment before walking inside. She makes her way to his bed and climbs over him, pushing him over so that she can curl into his chest. Then she lies there with him, silent, head pressed over his heart in a way she hasn’t done in a long time.

“Did I ever tell you about the stars I used to have on my ceiling?” Craig says slowly, after a while.

“No,” she responds. “Tell me about them?”

Craig smiles. “In some ways, I think it was one of the best gifts I’ve ever been given.”

She shifts and scoffs. “Fuck you. I thought that was me.”

“You weren’t a gift, you were hard work,” Craig chuckles. He gets a small punch to the arm for that one.

“You’re an ass,” she complains.

“Yup,” Craig agrees. “You’ve known me long enough now to know that’s my way of saying ‘I love you’.”

She laughs softly in response. It’s one of Craig’s favourite sounds and does wonders to ease the ache in his chest.

“So what about the stars?” She prompts after a little while.

“Hm? Oh. I used to have stars all across here,” He sweeps his hand, tracing the ceiling. “They glowed in the dark. They probably looked crappy, but that wasn’t the point. They meant a lot to me.” He trails off, drawing her closer and kissing her hair. She doesn’t comment on him being sappy. She knows that this is all very difficult for him.

“Thought I’d find you here,” another voice joins them.

Craig looks over to the doorway and finds Tweek regarding them both with a soft expression.

“Dad was telling me about the stars he had on his ceiling,” their daughter explains.

Tweek nods, moving to join them. It’s a tight fit; three adults sandwiched on a single bed, but none of them complain. “Your thirteenth birthday,” Tweek says. “Jesus. I’d forgot about them.”

“What made you buy him stars, Da’?” Their daughter asks.

“I’m not sure,” Tweek replies. “It was such a long time ago. God, we used to spend hours just staring up at them, didn’t we, Craig?”

“Hmm,” Craig agrees. “I can’t for the life of me remember when they came down. My mom hated them.”

“Is that why I used to have them in my room?” Their daughter asks.

“Might be,” Craig says, embarrassed by the sentimentality of it. She knows that he’s a hopeless soft touch though. She learnt that a very long time ago when saying “ _Dad_ ” just the right way got her pretty much anything that she wanted.

Tweek smiles at him over her head and reaches out to take his hand. Craig squeezes it back. Tweek is his lifeline, as always. Steady and reassuring.

They lie in silence like that for a while, their little family unit drawn together tight around Craig. He can almost feel them willing their comfort into him.

“Is Mom okay?” Craig asks after a while, remembering the crashing sound from earlier.

“Yeah. We dropped a box of cutlery, but Trish was helping her to repackage it when I came up,” Tweek explains.

They’re helping his mom move the last of the family treasures today. Ever since his dad had died earlier that year, she’s been struggling to manage the house on her own. With both children long grown up and moved out, she didn’t see a point in living in a three-bedroomed house, and the memory of her husband was too raw. It made Craig feel deeply sad and in a lot of ways feel like he was saying goodbye to his father all over again, but he understood. There was no point keeping a house full of memories for the sake of it.

For nearly fifty years though, this house has been witness to the memories and moments of the Tucker’s lives. Three generations of the Tucker tribe, sharing birthdays and holidays and lazy days together, embedding their family life into the walls for until the house finally comes down. On this bed, Craig had spent key, formative years looking up at a star show arranged together with the most important person in his life. They’d talked about life, made plans, made love, fought, been sick, lost patience, lost clothes, laughed, cried and everything that fell in between. The stars are long gone, but Craig smiles at the thought that they had played silent witness to his life. He’s grateful, somehow.

He squeezes Tweek’s hand and drops a kiss to his daughter’s hair. The stars may be long gone, but Craig can’t help but smile at the thought that they’re still there, just beyond view, silently glowing just for them.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I left their ages when consummating their relationship up to the reader. In my country it’s 16 but I know that it varies in the US from state to state!
> 
> Thanks again to anyone who reads this!


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